


They're Just Colors

by devilduckieee



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilduckieee/pseuds/devilduckieee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana lost a bet and people make her grumpy, but whatever she gets orgasms and they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They're Just Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Find the Map and Draw a Straight Line](https://archiveofourown.org/works/342767) by [socallmedaisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/socallmedaisy/pseuds/socallmedaisy). 



> socallmedaisy's fic gave me feels, so I wrote this ficlet because of them. You don't need to have read it to understand this, but you should read it 'cause FEEELS.

Santana really should’ve known by now not to make bets with Brittany. She’s one of those people who only make a wager when she knows that she’s going to win, but Santana likes the competition of it. Santana always seems to forget this when it comes to Brittany. It’s like betting in Vegas, the house always wins and Brittany is the house. 

It didn’t seem like that big of a deal; wear a certain sweatshirt for her Friday classes. Wear her girlfriend’s college’s sweatshirt to class. Like, who wouldn’t love to smell their girl on them and around them for an entire day? (The way their schedules work, Santana had the sweatshirt for the week and she curled around it when she went to bed at night. It was some of the best sleep she’s gotten on campus since she could remember.) The thing was, though, Brittany’s college is Berkeley. Which is, she’s so proud of her girl, you know? Britt’s totally going to be the best journalist ever, but Berkeley is Stanford’s rival. Santana loves Stanford. She loves everything about it. She loves Palo Alto and how it’s flat. She loves that Stanford is flat as well. She loves other things about her University, but whenever she thinks of the campus Brittany’s on, she shivers. Hiking to class is so unappealing. So Stanford's flatness is, like, always at the forefront of her mind.

What Santana isn’t particularly caring for about Stanford is this insane rivalry between it and her girl’s school, especially this week. The week of The Big Game. Santana’s seen nothing but a sea of Cardinal all week, which is – she gets it, you know? McKinley wasn’t the greatest at sports, but they still took their rivalries seriously. She wore her Cheerio outfit constantly. She gets school pride, she’s quite proud of her achievement of getting into an University like Stanford. She just thought that the general population of the college would be above the petty name calling and antics that they’ve been pulling towards her all day. 

It’s just a blue and gold sweatshirt, you know? It’s her girlfriend’s and it makes her feel warm and loved and like she’s an idiot for ever betting against Brittany in the first place, but whatever. Her temper had been rising to a slow boil all day, when she finally loses it in the middle of a class. Her professor, of all people, made a remark to the tune of ‘if you like that college so much, why aren’t you going there?’ It’s a PolySci class and Santana couldn’t deal with the absurdity of the professor’s condescending tone, like, shouldn’t she know better? But whatever, it’s not like her grades aren’t good enough to pass with an A even if the professor hates her. So, she erupts with something like ‘maybe she should’ve if her professor’s aren’t going to take her education seriously and are going to focus on clothing choices of all things’ and since she was on a roll, and she’s proud of her girl, she adds a ‘and you know what, fuck all of y’all for judging me. I’m getting better orgasms than all of you and if that means I have to wear my future wifey’s sweatshirt during Big Game week, I’m going to do it! Orgasms are way better than some old tradition of playing a patriarchal sport about proving dick sizes over some axe. Four years from now, I’ll still be getting orgasms and you’ll be alone with only your “axes” to keep you company.’ 

The class kinda had to be dismissed at that point ‘cause the professor was too busy being embarrassed to try and control the chatter and cat calling that had erupted. Santana should feel like she's achieved some sort of victory over the day, but she doesn't. The scowl on her face seemed to be permanently etched there after the day she’s had. It doesn’t even go away when she gets the text from the professor of her evening class telling her that class was cancelled. She’s glad about the cancelled class, but the professor didn’t need to use the ‘Go Cardinal, beat Cal!’ at the end of the text. It was just another reminder of her stupid decision to bet against Brittany. 

Santana vaguely wonders if, after today, she’ll finally have learned her lesson. If she’ll finally remember to not make a bet with Brittany, but she figures that if she hasn’t learned yet, she probably won’t. Besides, wearing the blue and gold sweatshirt makes it immensely easier to walk through Brittany’s campus.

The fucking hills though. Of course the journalism class Britt is in is near the top of the campus. It’s bad enough that the BART station is at the bottom of the hill, so everything Santana could possibly want to get to is uphill. Visiting Brittany is like she’s Little Red trying to visit Grandma and she’s got to climb over the river and through the woods to get to her girl, but whatever. The campus is perfect for Brittany. Every time Santana checks facebook she sees like a billion notifications of ‘Brittany S. Lopez-Pierce was tagged in a photo’ and half of them are Brittany either curled up in the branches of a tree, or hanging upside down from a branch, reading. Santana loves that people at Berkeley don’t even bat an eyelash at Brittany doing things like that. Brittany’s uniqueness is one of Santana’s favorite things about her, and no matter how many times Santana wishes that they went to the same school, she knows that their respective campuses are perfect for each other. There’s no way Santana would ever put up with constantly hiking to class, if she wants a work out that’s what gyms are for – or weekends with Brittany – but whatever. 

Brittany’s always worth the trek, though. Santana is rarely, if ever, let out of class early on Fridays. She’s got Brittany’s schedule in her phone with full details as to what class, building and room number Britt's in at any given time. The hike over and across campus didn’t alleviate her scowl any, though. She tries to focus on how she knows how much her girl loves surprises, and this is going to be a huge one, but her back hurts from the climbing and she’s tired from having to put up with everyone’s shit all day because of a fucking sweatshirt. 

All of that instantly melts away as soon as she sees Brittany walking out of the doors of her journalism class, wearing Santana’s bright red Stanford hoodie. She didn’t have to do that, Santana lost the bet, but just the sight of Brittany in that sweatshirt makes Santana fall in love all over again. It’s not like Brittany knew Santana was going to be there, which means Brittany was wearing the colors all day, just like Santana was. The scowl on Santana’s face gets replaced by a huge smile and happy tears, ‘cause Brittany just has this amazing way of letting her know how much she’s loved. Santana will never be alone, not while Brittany’s around to do anything about it. 

So, when Brittany finally looks up and directly into Santana’s eyes, it’s to a huge smile and a warm heart (and not to a scowling Santana with a sore back). Santana starts walking forward, where Brittany squeals, runs and pounces onto Santana. She wraps her legs and arms around Santana and gives the kind of kiss that probably shouldn’t be seen in public, but whatever. It’s Berkeley, they’ve seen worse.


End file.
